


and i swear the music was my only friend

by orphan_account



Series: checkmate [3]
Category: Dirk Gently's Holistic Detective Agency (TV 2016)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-05
Updated: 2017-02-05
Packaged: 2018-09-22 07:09:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 743
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9590141
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Svlad stays tense, watching with wide, cynical eyes as the trolley is wheeled into the room, before looking at the Colonel with an expression more suited to a Mafia boss offering candyfloss. “What’s that?”“It’s a CD player,” Scott explains, gesturing to the machine atop the trolley. “It plays music.”-A little background to 'lessons', but can be read alone.





	

**Author's Note:**

> SMALL DISCLAIMER: Riggins' & Dirk's relationship is strange to me, and I think it's a p. unhealthy one. But also, at this stage, Dirk is an orphan (apparently, cheers Max), alone in a facility. He doesn't know Riggins is behind it. So he attaches, like kids do. As he grows up, he realises this is Not Good (see their interactions in canon). I don't condone Riggins' actions because he treats Dirk like his son, and it is lowkey creepy.

Scott headed down the endless corridor, pausing outside the door marked ‘ICARUS’ in bold capitals, and promptly ignored the label as he knocked.

“Svlad? Can I come in?”

A muffled “I don’t know, can you?” filtered back through the metal, and the colonel allowed himself a smile as he unlocked and opened it.

Svlad found it curious that Riggins would still knock on the door before entering. He’d been in the facility for two years now, and Riggins remained the only member of staff who asked permission before entering. It was one of the reasons he felt as close to the man as he did. “Hello. Thank you for visiting me.”

Scott smiled somewhat as he entered, pulling the metal medical trolley behind him. Svlad tensed at the sound; he had long since learned to associate the metal trolleys with needles and the many unpleasant sensations that followed being injected with the concoction inside.

Sensing his charge’s anxiety, Scott offers a placating hand. “It’s alright. This is a treat.”

Svlad stays tense, watching with wide, cynical eyes as the trolley is wheeled into the room, before looking at the Colonel with an expression more suited to a Mafia boss offering candyfloss. “What’s that?”

“It’s a CD player,” Scott explains, gesturing to the machine atop the trolley. “It plays music.” Svlad’s expression remains suspicious, as though expecting the machine to electrocute him the second he gets close. Scott can hardly blame him. “Do you want to look at it? It can’t hurt you.”

Svlad stays still for a second, before nodding. “Yes. Please.” He rises from the bed and makes his way to the trolley. He runs a hand along the silver and glances at Scott. “It’s not playing anything.”

“No, I have to put in the CD first.” Scott shows him the plastic case, and Svlad marvels at the shiny silver disc when it’s removed. Riggins places it into the reader and closes the lid, pressing a button before moving away.

Instantly, music fills the room, the first song being  _Parklife._ It's kind of a risky choice, since it's a British band -  _Blur -_ and the lyrics seem a little...anarchic. But he wants to know if Svlad will recognise the voices, and warm up to his life now in America.

Something inside him makes Svlad want to cover his ears, an almost guilty feeling at getting this rare treat he’s all too aware his fellow experiments aren’t granted. Then the speaking starts, and all of a sudden, there are tears. Floods and floods of them.

Because those voices, they sound like him. They sound like home. Not completely; obviously the vocalists have a different dialect to him, their tones more rough and less clipped than Svlad’s, but it’s still so much more familiar than the voices that surround him here.

Riggins moves to switch it off, but the boy flails. “No! No, I like it, I like it-“

Likes it so much, in fact, that he won’t let Scott take it away, even when they’ve gone through the same song four times over. Svlad seems to cling to it, a flicker of anger in his eyes that Scott has never seen before. “I want to keep it.”

“Svlad… We can’t allow you this-“

“I want to keep it. I won’t tell you anything if you don’t let me keep it.”

This is new. Previous to now, Svlad has been a near-perfect subject, obedient and easily coerced. He tells them what they need to know, goes along with their experiments without major obstruction. They don’t allow subjects personal possessions, but Scott will admit he has the slightest soft spot for Svlad. And they _need_ him to talk. If giving him this will keep him compliant…

“Look, I can’t have you keep the whole stereo. Give me until tomorrow, and I’ll get you a smaller version to listen to it. But you have to keep it a secret. Alright?” The look in Svlad’s eyes is one that will reoccur frequently in the future, when he’s proven right over and over again. It’s almost smug, in an innocent kind of way.

Svlad nods eagerly, and after the sixth run of the song, he lets Riggins take it away without protest. As Scott leaves the little room, he can hear the child repeating the words to himself with the same reverence as he would a prayer. He smiles to himself and hopes this was not a mistake.

**Author's Note:**

> 'lessons' had some of the loveliest feedback I've ever received, thank you all so much. I hope this background bit lives up to that!
> 
> See more from me on my [tumblr](http://hippocampers.tumblr.com) \- I love to hear from all of you.
> 
> Title from 'First Things First' by Neon Trees - what else?


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